He chuckled, and she enjoyed the sound as it vibrated through her ears. Deep, masculine and warm. Not a word anyone usually associated with Steele. He wasn’t a warm person. But he seemed so different. Ever since the second time he’d come to see her, that time without any reason other than he wanted to. She liked that a lot. She held hope that she meant something more to him than just physical release.

He’d been anything but cold and remote with her. While the first night had been hot and passionate, she treasured the second visit infinitely more because nothing had forced him to come. No injured teammates. No need for medical care. He’d wanted her.

Damn pregnancy hormones were screaming for mercy. Just thinking about it elevated her temperature about three degrees.

“You think I’m the type to sit on the front porch in a rocking chair?” he asked.

She pretended to consider the matter and then nodded, keeping her face perfectly straight. “I can so see you taking up knitting.”

He laughed outright and then got out. She opened her door and slid out as he was walking around to get her.

“I’m fine, Steele. Perfectly capable of getting myself out of the car and to that awesome front porch.”

Still, he tucked her against his side, and she didn’t complain. Not when she was pressed to that delectable body. Given the fact that he might not take the news of his impending fatherhood well, and she might never find herself this up close and personal again, she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

They mounted the steps and he punched in a code on the keypad of the door. Her brows scrunched together and she glanced up at him.

“High tech just doesn’t go with this house. It has all this rustic charm, you have a porch screaming for a rocking chair and a swing and then you get to the door and it has an electronic entry.”

He shrugged. “I have a state-of-the-art alarm system complete with booby traps. If the wrong code is entered . . . Well, let’s just say you want to memorize it or make sure I’m with you to open it for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Booby traps? Holy shit. You mean I could get seriously maimed if I enter the wrong code? Steele, I should tell you now, I suck at numbers. Phone numbers, account numbers, you name it.”

He grinned. “Just kidding. But the look on your face was priceless.”

She stared at him in stupefaction. “You cracked a joke? Maybe I should step back in case lightning strikes.”

He scowled at her and then pushed her inside. She snickered and then inhaled deeply, savoring the tangy smell of cedar.

She hadn’t lied about the rustic charm. It reminded her of walking into a mountain lodge. He guided her into the spacious living room and she rotated in a circle, taking it all in.

“I love it,” she breathed. “It’s so . . . you.”

“Glad you approve.”

A huge stone fireplace was the focal point of the living room. Above the mantel hung a mounted elk head and as she took in the rest of the décor, she saw several other stuffed animals. In front of the fireplace lay a bear rug, and several wildlife paintings hung on the walls.

She wrinkled her nose as her gaze returned to Steele. “Beautiful animals, but somehow I think they’d be even more beautiful alive and in the wild.”

“I’m sure you saw your fair share of wildlife during your time in Africa.”

“Oh, I did!” she exclaimed. “It was fantastic. Africa was fantastic. Well, until the whole hostage thing. Then, not so much.”

“What do you want to do first? We should have stopped and gotten you some clothes somewhere, but you were sleeping and I hated to wake you. But if some of my sweats and a T-shirt will tide you over, we’ll go into town later and get you what you need.”

“What are my choices?” she asked lightly.

“Well, you can sit and I’ll fix us lunch. Or you can go take your hot bath and soak while I cook. Or you can make your phone calls and then do either of the aforementioned options, or you can eat and then call your folks. But somewhere in all of this, you and I have some things to discuss,” he said quietly.

She swallowed, knowing he didn’t even realize just how much they had to discuss. She wasn’t a coward. She was totally going to tell him, but maybe it would be a conversation best had after she was clean and they’d both eaten.

“How about I take that bath, soak for a few minutes, then we eat. We’ll talk and then I’ll call my parents,” she said.

It would be a lot easier if she told Steele the news before she called her parents, because she was going to have to tell them everything she was going to tell Steele and she’d rather he hear it directly from her rather than as a secondhand participant in a conversation he wasn’t even a part of.

“Okay, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom. It has its own en suite bathroom, but it only has a shower. You’ll have to use my bathroom if you’re going to soak. I’ll get you something to wear, and take your time with the bath. I’ll use the guest bathroom to take a quick shower and then I’ll rustle up something for us to eat.”

Impulsively, she moved in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. She let her head rest on his chest for a brief moment, savoring his warmth and the hardness of his body.

“Thank you. You’re the best, Steele.”

He seemed surprised by the hug, but he wrapped both arms securely around her and squeezed tight, nearly smothering her with his embrace. It was . . . nice. More than nice. If she could bottle his hugs as a cure-all, the world would be a much better place.

“Just glad to have you back,” he said gruffly.

“I’m glad to be back,” she said fervently.

He pulled her away from his body just enough that he could look down at her. Those ice blue eyes smoldered as they raked over her face. Then he lowered his mouth, kissing her with a featherlight brush of his lips.

She closed her eyes and swayed into him, her hands going to his chest, her palms pressed flat against his shirt. He deepened the kiss, licking at her lips until they parted and a sigh rushed from her mouth into his.

The room was kind of swimmy when he pulled away and she stared up at him, her vision fuzzy. He touched her still-tingling lips with the tip of his finger.

“Go take your bath,” he murmured. “I’ll have lunch on the table when you get out.”

She took one step back, testing the steadiness of her legs. Confident she wasn’t going to face-plant after the toe-tingling kiss, she reluctantly turned and let him lead the way to his bedroom.

The master bedroom was huge. He had a king-size bed with a rustic, slatted wood headboard and footboard. It looked like a log cabin bed, but it fit the rest of the décor, and again, it was just so . . . Steele. He was echoed in every inch of the house. It fit him to a T.

When they entered the bathroom, her eyebrows went up. While the rest of the house wasn’t remotely modern looking, he had a kick-ass bathroom with all the modern conveniences. Radiant-heated tile floors, granite countertops and what looked like a marble shower and separate huge soaking tub. Somehow she couldn’t picture Steele soaking in a bathtub. He didn’t seem like the type to just sit and boil himself like she was preparing to do. He was more the impatient type, in and out of the shower in two point three minutes.

“What’s that look for?” Steele inquired.

Her nose wrinkled. “The rest of the house suits you. Your personality, I mean. But the bathroom? I just can’t wrap my head around you ever using the huge tub. It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. I dream of having a tub like this. Well, a bathroom like this. It’s perfect. But again, I just don’t see you dallying in the bathroom or indulging in the luxury of a hot bath.”

He shrugged. “In my line of work, I come home with sore muscles, bullet holes. I’ve been beat to hell and have gone without sleep for five straight days. Believe me when I say, sometimes the best medicine is to bury myself in hot water and stay there for a couple of hours.”

She winced. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes perfect sense. Unfortunately for me, I can’t actually boil myself or even stay in the tub for too long.”

“Why not?”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She’d very nearly given herself away by saying pregnant women shouldn’t submerge in hot water for extended periods of time.

“Well, you promised me food, and not even a hot bath prevails over food at the moment.”

“I’ll leave some clothes for you on the bed. Towels are in the cabinet by the shower. I’ll shut the bedroom door. Don’t worry about me coming in. I’ll stay out until you’re done.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He turned and walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

She reached over to start the bathwater running and then quickly stripped out of her clothing. She grimaced when she took off her shirt and realized that in her haste to leave with Hancock, she hadn’t put a bra on, and she sure as hell didn’t think Steele would have that particular accessory.

For that matter, she didn’t have clean underwear, which meant she’d be going sans bra and panties until they could get to a store to buy them. Definitely at the top of her shopping list.

Twenty minutes later, she reluctantly left the orgasmic bliss of the hot water and stepped out to dry herself. She twisted her hair in a towel and piled it atop her head before wrapping the other towel around her body. Then she went into the bedroom, and as he’d promised, he’d laid out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Perfect. It would disguise her braless state.

Still wearing the towel on her head—she didn’t have it in her to comb out her hair yet—she wandered out of Steele’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Steele was standing at the island where the stovetop was inlaid and was tending to three different pots.

She sniffed appreciatively as she slid onto one of the bar stools at the U-shaped island.

“Smells wonderful. What’s cooking?”

“Spaghetti,” he replied. “Sorry it’s nothing fancier. I haven’t been home much in the last while and the groceries are in sore need of restocking. Hope you don’t mind deer burger in your spaghetti. It was all I had in the freezer.”

Her stomach rumbled. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Anything that smells that good has to be delicious. And to be honest, I got really tired of all the fancy gourmet stuff that Caldwell always had prepared. I had no idea what I was eating half the time. I’m afraid my palate isn’t that refined. Give me a burger and some fries and I’m in heaven.”

Steele grinned. “You and I will get along just fine then. I can cook, but I’m no cordon bleu.”

A few minutes later, he drained the pasta and then ladled out the thick spaghetti sauce onto two beds of pasta.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. “I quick-brewed some iced tea, but I wasn’t sure if you liked yours sweetened or not. To me, it isn’t tea unless it’s sweet tea, but if you’re not from the South, you aren’t likely to share that opinion. I also have a variety of sodas and bottled water.”

“Tea is fine,” she said. “Admittedly, the tea I drink is usually hot, but I’m not opposed to iced tea at all.”

“I’ll get you some tea when I restock the groceries. Make me a list of the kinds you like. I can’t guarantee my little grocery store will have a huge variety, but I can always order it for you.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said softly.

From the way he was talking, he seemed to take it for granted that she’d be staying longer than a few days. But then she’d have a better idea of whether he still felt hospitable after she dropped the bomb.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet,” he said dryly.

“Then I’m glad I’m getting to see that sweet side of you. It’s definitely there!”

He slid her plate across the bar and then set his next to hers. He filled two glasses with ice, poured the tea and then walked around to sit beside her.

She stared down at the steaming plate of spaghetti and her stomach promptly rebelled. She sat completely still, willing the nausea to go away. But the longer she sat, the worse it got. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she inhaled sharply, realizing too late her mistake.

“Maren?”

Steele’s sharp inquiry reached her ears, but she was already bolting from the bar, stumbling toward the bathroom before she completely lost it.

She burst inside Steele’s bathroom, instinctively heading back where she’d just been a few minutes before. She’d just reached the toilet when the first dry heave hit her, the towel on her head tumbling to the floor.

She nearly fell with the force of the retch. Her stomach lurched painfully as it tried to offer up something, but there wasn’t anything there to get out.

And then Steele was there, holding her up and preventing her from collapsing. He anchored her to his side and bent over with her, holding her hair back from her face. He didn’t say anything, thank God. He just stood there with her, patient and gentle as her body convulsed over and over.